The next few days passed in a blur, a series of meetings, audiences, and Sabrina's first Petition Day. By prior arrangement, General Zhahghai and a group of fellow refugees from the moon, Darkene, presented a petition for Sabrina to approve their resettlement contract, enabling her to sign the document in public and make a short speech commending their courage and wishing them well. She didn't personally approve, but Rayland and Rassir had urged her to let the attempt be made, and from the applause of the audience she gathered that they had been right.
She was glad they had staged the first petition, because the ones that followed varied widely in their scope and possibility. Pleas for food and other necessities had to be answered, though she was not sure where they were going to be able to divert such supplies from; a few marriage petitions from the lesser nobility had to be referred to the royal genealogists; petitions for positions at court had to be referred to the Royal Chamberlain. Sabrina began to understand that Petition Day would be a penance, not a pleasure, for her. She was able to promise nothing for most petitioners, no matter how much she would have liked to. And the last scheduled petition was heart-wrenching: a plea from a father who wanted the Guardian to try to heal his son's terminal illness. Sabrina promised that everything she could do would be done, all the while knowing that Mara could not in good conscience risk herself and her planet, the entire Realm, for one person.
Sabrina looked around the room as the Royal Chamberlain stood to announce that Petition Day was at an end. She was weary and upset, nearly in tears, and wanted only to escape what she thought were reproachful looks from her subjects. She wished she hadn't been so adamant about not being spared anything when Rayland and Rassir recommended that the Royal Chamberlain choose who should be allowed to petition her. At least they could have arranged it so the last petition was one she could grant decisively.
Faline was about to speak when another petitioner came forward. She hesitated, then allowed him to approach the throne, evidently hoping his petition would be a better end to the day.
Sabrina was surprised to recognize the petitioner as Ryaen Blaisop, the Citizens Council representative from the Tree Cities. Her spirits rose a little as she hoped he would ask her for something she could give.
"My lady," he said, bowing, "on behalf of my fellow Tree Citizens, I petition for cuttings from your flowering plants, to be bred to grow in our soil and adorn our planet."
"I will gladly give you cuttings from all the roses I have," Sabrina replied instantly. "I would be happy to share them with all Praxatillus."
"Thank you, my lady," Ryaen said, bowing again. "We shall treasure them as a symbol of the life and beauty you have brought to us."
Sabrina felt a little better as he withdrew, and Faline formally closed Petition Day. With Darice right behind her, she left the room through a side door, closing it behind her with a sigh of relief. "Thank God that's over," she said.
"I thought you did very well," Darice offered.
"There's so much I can't do. Especially that little boy. I have to find some way to help him other than risking Mara."
"You will, my lady," Darice said loyally. "Come; you have a few minutes to rest before you must change for dinner."
____________
The dinner, a state occasion to honor the visit of Oria, Chief Councilor of Deltarr, turned out better than Sabrina expected. For one thing, Lady Ælieni of Lthos offered the medical services of a Lthosyenne Healer for the little boy whose father had petitioned Sabrina; she further offered to conduct the boy and his father to Lthos in her personal ship. Sabrina jumped at the chance to help the boy as well as get Lady Ælieni safely off Praxatillus, and she was in good spirits for the rest of the meal.
After dinner, she called Ryaen to say that she would have the cuttings ready for him the following day. He looked surprised and relieved. "My lady, I am so glad my request didn't anger or offend you," he said. "When Tassan whispered it in my ear I thought he was joking, but then he pushed me out onto the carpet and I had to go forward."
"Oh, well if it wasn't your idea then perhaps you don't really want them," Sabrina said, taken aback.
"No, my lady, I do, very much! I had said so to Tassan earlier, but I was afraid to ask you for such a precious gift. I've seen his studies of the roses, and my people are great horticulturists. I'll be a hero at home for bringing in a new plant." He grinned. "I guess Tassan was right and I shouldn't have been afraid to ask."
"You should never be afraid to ask me for anything, Citizen. No one should. That's my job," Sabrina told him. "Come tomorrow and I'll have the cuttings for you."
"Thank you, my lady. Your gift will never be forgotten among the Tree Citizens."
Sabrina signed off, then jumped up. "Darice! I'm going up to the conservatory."
"Yes, ma'am," Darice replied, joining her in the hallway.
"Wait down here, please, Darice," Sabrina said as they reached the spiral staircase leading to the conservatory. Light spilled down from above, and they could smell paint.
"Yes, ma'am," Darice replied, after conferring briefly with Control.
Sabrina made her way up the stairs with more dignity than haste. Tassan was in the midst of packing away his painting supplies and covering his canvas, and he nearly dropped a handful of brushes as he bowed in greeting. "My lady, I am sorry, I did not know you planned to be here tonight."
"You," she said, putting her hands on her hips, "have been keeping an eye on me."
He frowned, perplexed at the idiom. "My lady?"
"Don't 'my lady' me. You've been watching out for me. My Father asked me not to go to Bathir last night. I asked him where he'd heard such an idea, and he said he got it from Darice. But Darice wasn't in the Citizens Council meeting. But I know you talked to her later that day because she made a point of telling me you would be up here that night."
He spread his hands. "I fail to see what you are accusing me of."
"No, you don't," she retorted. "And I just found out you put Ryaen Blaisop up to that petition today."
Tassan smiled a little. "I do have to admit to that, I suppose. He desperately wanted to ask but was afraid to."
"Yes, but it also had the effect of rescuing me from a dismal ending of my first Petition Day."
"A fortuitous circumstance, but not my intention."
She narrowed her eyes at him and cocked her head. "Lying to the Regent is grounds for treason."
He laughed, and she relented, smiling a little. "Come now," he said, "I've already told you I don't worry about you, won't flatter you, and am mostly using your acquaintance to gain access to the roses. What else do I need to say to be acquitted of anything beyond the rather distant respect that is proper between two people in our widely varying stations in life?"
Sabrina laughed. "Respect! All I've ever had from you is disrespect, Citizen Nikolar! Lucky for you I find it refreshing."
He gave a mock bow. "I am here to serve."
"How odd, I thought you were here to paint. Which reminds me, I'm a little peeved at not being the first to see your rose studies. Citizen Blaisop says he's already seen them, whereas I've not even had a peek."
"Ryaen doesn't know enough about art to make any criticisms that would threaten my sense of achievement," Tassan replied. "You, on the other hand, could devastate me with a word. You'll understand that I don't care to present them to your scrutiny until I have satisfied myself."
"Oh, come on!" Sabrina said. "Just because I'm Regent doesn't make me an art critic!"
"No," he agreed, "your sharp eye and equally keen mind do."
"Ah ha, now there's flattery!" Sabrina exclaimed, walking forward as if to tear the cover from the easel.
Tassan caught her wrist in a firm grip, holding her fingers inches away from the easel. Sabrina was so surprised that she didn't even attempt to pull her hand away, staring at him in shock and gathering outrage.
"You must allow me my artistic eccentricities," Tassan said softly. He started to release her, then slid his hand around under her palm and brought her hand up to his lips.
It was a very brief kiss, hardly enough for her skin to sense, and then he released her. Sabrina's outrage shattered into confusion, and she stared at him for a moment more, her cheeks flushing. Was he being outrageous, or gallant, or both? She didn't know him well enough to be sure. It was the kind of gesture she could imagine Haaron or Therenden making to soften a refusal, and yet she was certain their eyes would have held contrition and regret, rather than glowing at her in that unsettling way.
"Very well," Sabrina said, drawing herself up with dignity. "I will wait until you are ready to show them to me. When they are finished, however, I would appreciate being the first to see them."
"Certainly. It will be my pleasure," Tassan replied, turning back to his tidying. "May I leave my things here? Now that you have promised not to peek, it would be so much easier not to have to carry them back and forth."
"I see no reason you cannot leave them," Sabrina said stiffly. "I am going to choose a few blooms for an arrangement, and then I will be leaving too."
"In that case, may I remain for a few moments and do some more sketches?" he asked.
"It makes no difference to me," Sabrina replied, bending over the red rosebush. After a moment, she could hear Tassan's pencil moving back and forth across his paper, and thought how charming it was that the Praxatillians, with all their high technology, still used the older forms of artistic expression. Perhaps they agreed with Sabrina's friend Kath, who had once said that using a computer to create art made her feel too removed from the process, as though she were merely directing instead of creating. Many artists disagreed, but Sabrina thought that perhaps Kath and Tassan were more alike than she had realized.
She sneaked a glance at Tassan. He was contemplating one of the blooms in her hand, frowning at it. She gently spread its petals a little more, then said, "Would you like to hear a secret? Since you seem so good at keeping them from everyone but me."
He rewarded her with a faint, wry grin. "I am always honored to receive your confidences."
"I'm going to make a bridal wreath for Lady Aliza. Her wedding is coming up. I thought I could make the wreath and put it in stasis. Sehaèri suggested it when I was wondering how to keep it fresh."
"An excellent idea," Tassan replied, rather distractedly.
Sabrina suspected he'd rather not try to make conversation, but whether from a desire to irritate him or simply to fill the silence, she kept talking. "Red roses are for passion. White's for purity. Hm. Aliza will still be in mourning, so the red would clash pretty horribly. Maybe white and lavender."
She paused, considering, and Tassan said, "What does lavender stand for?"
"Enchantment."
"Ah. That seems suitable. Purity and enchantment—that is an excellent bridal combination. Passion is a thing for private, not for public, display."
Sabrina looked at him. His gaze was distant, as if looking beyond the room. She remembered the painting of his dead love Ambria, and the passion with which she had been rendered, invisible to a casual glance but there for anyone looking closely to see.
Suddenly his focus returned, and he noticed her gaze. "What?" he said.
Sabrina turned back to choosing blooms. "I don't necessarily disagree with you," she said, "but I was wondering if perhaps some passions are too strong to be kept from the public eye. In which case, the best you could do would be to reveal it in as subtle a way as possible."
"Perhaps," he said. "And certainly passion for one's home, one's people, and one's beliefs should be displayed at times. But if we are speaking of passion between lovers, then I would say that no good can come from flaunting it in public view."
"But if that passion is strong enough, it becomes part of who you are, and impossible to hide completely," Sabrina argued.
"If that is the case, then I would agree with you that it should be concealed as much as possible, and revealed only in subtle ways." He smiled. "I am going to offend you by asking your age, my lady."
"Oh, compared to the Miahns I'm only an infant. I'm roughly a fourth of the way through my expected lifespan, if that's what you want to know."
"Still young. I thought so. Passion is for the young." His smile grew wistful.
"Yes," Sabrina said. "I'll know I'm old when I lose that. I hope it won't be for a long time." She worked for a while, then said, "King Baldaran said to me that Praxatillus' great tragedy was that entire generations had died fighting the war. There were only the old and the very young left. The old had wisdom but little passion left, he said, and the young had passion but very little wisdom. He said that would be Mara's challenge, to be wise and passionate at the same time. That's why I think he would have approved of Mara's marriage with Tirqwin. Passion and wisdom inextricably linked."
"Did you ever think it would be your challenge as well?" Tassan asked curiously.
"No. If it had so much as crossed my mind, I would have run screaming for the next solar system," Sabrina sighed.
"Thereby showing wisdom as well as passion—if you can define self-preservation as a passion."
Sabrina grinned. "That depends on who you ask. There are those who accuse me of not having enough sense of self-preservation."
"Obviously, since you are here and not safely tucked away on your home planet," Tassan replied.
"No," Sabrina said slowly. "That's because of passion too. A passion for keeping my promises. As for wisdom...I don't know." She held out her small bouquet and studied it. "I think that's enough."
"They are truly beautiful," Tassan said. "Purity and enchantment. A gift worthy of the one who receives and the one who gives. I salute your taste."
"There you go with the flattery again. You'd better watch out or I'll write you off as another courtier with an agenda."
"But I never said I didn't have an agenda," he protested as she got to her feet.
She smiled. "Yes, but you said your agenda was painting my roses. You don't have to flatter me for that."
"Sorry, bad habit. I'll try to avoid making any remarks from now on that could possibly be construed as complimentary. In which spirit, may I say that that dress does not at all become you?"
Sabrina glanced down involuntarily, smoothing her wrinkled skirt. "Well," she said, "it doesn't matter what I wear while I'm working in my study, which is what I was doing before I decided to enliven my evening by having a conversation with you. I tell you what, Citizen Nikolar: so you won't feel compelled to resort to flattery, I'll make you a deal. Supply me with interesting and spirited conversation from time to time, and you can have unlimited access to the roses."
"I agree," he replied promptly. "Please do not misinterpret this as a compliment, but someday I should like to paint you wearing silver, with white roses in your hair."
"Someday, maybe," Sabrina said, going to the staircase. "Good night, Citizen."
"Good night, my lady."
Sabrina began to descend the stairs, pausing as she heard the outer door open and close. She began to back up the steps warily until she heard Darice say, "Good evening, sir."
Tassan, who had quietly put this sketch pad down and walked to her side, drew back as Sabrina, seeing Rayland's gray head below, said, "Father! Come up and see my roses."
"I should like that, daughter," Rayland called up as he mounted the staircase. He paused when he noticed Tassan. "Ah, Citizen Nikolar. Good evening."
"Good evening, sir," Tassan replied, taking up his sketch pad again.
Sabrina took Rayland's arm and drew him over to her rosebushes.
"They are beautiful. Imari is very proud of hers; she shows it to everyone who comes to see her." He smiled gently. "She has taken to referring to you, in that context, as her 'thoughtful great-niece.'"
Sabrina gave a half-smothered laugh. "My goodness, she is my great-aunt now, isn't she? Heavens! I wonder what Aunt Euphrasia would say? Actually, I think they would get along fairly well. They could talk about my deplorable independence and Scotty's recklessness, and our mutual lack of good manners and deportment!"
Rayland smiled. "Among family, perhaps. But she will not criticize you, except perhaps in your respective official capacities, outside the family circle. And speaking of Imari, she has invited us to lunch tomorrow. I hope you can accept?"
"I'll try. I'll speak to Secretary Sansfir."
"Good. I hate to disturb such a cozy tableau," Rayland said, giving Tassan a glance that made the artist duck behind his sketch pad, "but I wished to speak with you privately, my daughter. On a matter of business."
"Certainly," Sabrina said. "I was just bidding Citizen Nikolar good-night."
"Then I shall join you," Rayland said, stepping over to Tassan, who stood hurriedly, sketch pad still in hand. Rayland leaned over and glanced at it. "Ah. An excellent likeness. My dear, I wasn't aware you had commissioned a portrait."
Tassan gave Sabrina a rather desperate look, and she said, "We were discussing the possibility of one, Father. Various people have told me I should have one done while I am Regent. Since Citizen Nikolar acted gallantly in my defense, I thought it would not be too great an honor for him."
Both Rayland and Tassan glanced suspiciously at her. Tassan said nothing, and Rayland only raised an eyebrow as he said, "Indeed not, and if this sketch is any indication, it will be an excellent portrait. But you should not force him to snatch glimpses of you in your rare free moments; you should allow him to take a hologram of you that he can use as a model."
"Thank you, Father, that's excellent advice," Sabrina said. "Once again, good night, Citizen Nikolar."
"Good night, my lady, Commander." Tassan replied, bowing.
Rayland gave him a formal good-night as he followed Sabrina down the staircase. Sabrina suppressed a grin, not quite sure why she was amused, as she joined Darice in the half-lit room below.